


The Light in the Darkness

by whiskeyandelephants27



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25234396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandelephants27/pseuds/whiskeyandelephants27
Summary: Her lips rewrote history. Whether it was because of the words that passed through them, the smiles she bestowed with them, or who she kissed with them is a matter for debate. But if not for her, only the Gods know what would've happened.kinda a fix-it fic but not really. The North deserved better.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Edric "Ned" Dayne/Arya Stark, Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Renly Baratheon/Loras Tyrell, Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Robb Stark/Original Female Character(s), Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

'I hate this city. It stinks.' She thinks to herself as she stops at the city gate for her sworn sword to catch up to her after she had raced off on Syrax. She had resigned herself to taking her last breath of fresh air hours ago, long before they had even been in sight of King's Landing. Thankfully, Elizabeth only needed to be here for a month or so before she could leave again for her brother's wedding back home in Oldtown.

Oldtown was a city that could be enjoyed. It had been impeccably planned and structured. One didn't have to worry about where they stepped and it smelled infinitely better. It had its fair share of poor people, but they were taken care of far better than the lowborn here in King's Landing. Her grandfather had upheld the traditions of charitable work that her family had practiced for generations. It was one that was heavily instilled in her and she cared for passionately, not just out of duty, but her own volition. She used to go with her mother to the orphanages and make sure they were well-fed and clothed and give them toys.

By the gods, she missed her family and home. Lizzie had spent the past few months without anyone she could confide in and it had taken its toll on her.

She watched as the merchants and small-folk pass by glancing in curiosity at the highborn lady all by herself at one of the gates to the city. Lizzie gave them a cheery smile and waved at a pair of children who rode by with their feet dangling off the side of a cart they rode. They returned the wave and smiled with all the enthusiasm one can expect from youth. She chuckled and continued to sit there, allowing her horse to catch her breath after the long gallop she'd just put her through.

Finally, her knight appeared.

"Honestly, Ser Egan, I thought you were supposed to be my protector. You can't very well protect me if you're a whole league behind me, can you?" She teased.

Ser Egan snorted as his horse trotted up and she moved next to him, "Forgive me for saying so, my lady but arrogance is not a good look for you. Besides on that horse of yours, few could even dream of catching you. The only time I'm not needed is when you're on the wretched horse."

Lizzie could do nothing but laugh good-naturedly and making the small folk pause and admire the young and beautiful highborn lady.

'They think I'm just some highborn lady enjoying her day, free of the worries. Oh, how I wish that were the truth.'

When she was younger, she used to sneak away from the High Tower to go out and play with the lowborn children - much like the ones who had passed her on the cart just a short while ago - and pretend to be one of the dirty, starving orphans. Lizzie liked how she was treated as an equal. Of course, the time came when she saw their suffering, and instead of pretending to be them, she took up the duty that was given to her as a lady and vowed to always care for the poor.

They began their trek through the city, continuing their banter and pointing out shops that they should come back and visit. Lizzie especially wanted to go to the street of silk and acquire some new dresses. Some of her old ones didn't fit her the same way they used to because it seemed the gods had a sense of humor and while they didn't give her a tall stature, they decided to bless her with curves that never seemed to want to stop changing her body. Besides that, she knew that, just like she'd been told throughout her stay in Winterfell - both seriously and teasingly - winter is coming. Many of her dresses were not at all suited for colder weather. She'd been mercilessly mocked about her shivering and the goosebumps that covered her skin. Not that she'd minded all that much, especially when that teasing came from the lips of a boy who made her flushed when he brazenly stared at all the skin her dresses showed. She would have minded even less if he'd used those lips to warm her up.

She shook her head as if to shake off the thoughts. It's best not to think of Winterfell. Of the North. The North with the boy who had bright piercing blue eyes that set her on edge and a smile that made her forget herself. No, Lizzie reminded herself, you are not going to be a girl who daydreams about a boy.

With that, she turned back to her sworn sword and returned to their conversation. Then, upon seeing an opening for it, she broached a subject that had been on her mind ever since little Arya Stark had confided in her that her half brother, Jon Snow, had given her a skinny little sword as a parting gift.

"Are you still considering getting a new sword, Ser? Or are you going to keep the blade that has been so reliable to you and saved both of our lives?"

The knight looked at her warily. Not that she could blame him. He'd become an expert at spotting when she had ulterior motives and she had never bothered to ask about swords, armor, or anything of the like before this moment. "I haven't decided yet, my lady. I'll probably wait until after the Hand's Tourney either way."

"Well, if you do decide to make a visit to the street of steel, I'd like to accompany you."

He turned in the saddle and looked at her sharply, "And what business do you have on the street of steel, my lady?

Burly, grouchy, and balding, Ser Egan Risely seemed the most unlikely companion to Lady Elizabeth of House Hightower. However, they suited each other well. He was wise and quick enough to stop her from her more… rebellious activities and she was lively and witty enough to allow him to feel young enough to keep up with her. That is until she got on her demon-horse, as he so fondly called her sweet mare. They had a unique relationship, similar to that of an uncle-niece. Although, Ser Egan knew far more of her secrets than any of her other uncles did.

It was three years ago, during a tournament held by her father to celebrate her grandfather's 60th nameday - not that he came down from the High Tower to celebrate it himself - that Ser Egan became Elizabeth's sworn sword. He had, to the shock of everyone, won the joust. He caused even more waves when he refused the winner's purse and instead asked for a place of service in her grandfather's household. He was the second son of a small house in the Reach, who had spent most of his years in Essos helping to improve trade relations between the free cities and the Reach. He'd been quite successful and no one knew for certain why he had returned and wanted to become a servant to one of the most prominent houses of the Reach. Her father, acting on behalf of her grandfather, granted it to him, stating that his daughter was always putting herself in unnecessary and unpredictable danger and was in need of a sworn sword.

'If it is your desire to be of service to the House Hightower, there is no greater honor than protecting the Pearl of Oldtown and Light of the High Tower.' Her father, Lord Baelor Hightower, had proudly proclaimed to the entire crowd to thunderous applause.

Both she and Ser Egan had been furious, although at the moment they hid it well. Elizabeth because now she'd have to work so much harder to sneak away from the lesson with her Septa to go play with the small-folk children, or hang around the tiltyard watching and cheering on her brothers and uncles, or going swimming, or riding, or any of the other number of activities that her Septa had frowned upon. Ser Egan because he'd trained his entire life and had just been reduced, in his mind, to the role of a Septa. However, refusing would have been an insult even though it was the last thing Ser Egan wanted to do. He spent the following months sulking and brooding while following around a chatty and overly energetic thirteen-year-old Elizabeth, who spent every moment she could trying to slip from his watch. It was her favorite game to play and it drove him mad. Which made it even more fun for her, especially once her siblings got in on the game and she became very inventive.

Eventually, Ser Egan grew fond of her although he'd never admit it. And Lizzie, unfortunately, learned the hard way exactly why she needed to be protected and stopped trying to escape him and now simply roped him into her escapades. Nowadays, they had a good rapport, respected each other, and cared for each other deeply.

Next to him atop his large Dothraki steed that had been a gift from a Khal after he'd defeated a Dothraki in combat, she had her horse, Syrax - who was named for one of the Targaryen dragons - trot through the streets of King's Landing.

Lizzie pondered how to answer his question on what she needed on the street of steel and decided to be honest. "I'd like to acquire a blade, something small, to put next to my satchel or under my pillow. And Addam is going to be squiring soon, I was thinking of gifting him some armor."

"A blade? My lady, why would you need one? I have never failed you." Ser Egan said incredulously, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw set, ready to talk her out of whatever nonsense she'd cooked up.

Lizzie sighed, "I don't anticipate ever needing one, nor do I have a desire to ever use one but it's something I'd like to have. Just as a precaution."

Ser Egan leveled her with one of his harsh stares. The one he gave her every time he knew she was not saying something but wasn't going to pry.

Luckily, it was at that moment, they got to the bridge to cross into the Red Keep and the guards allowed them to enter.

Trotting into the massive and imposing keep, she made Syrax come to a stop, dismounted, and handed the reins to a servant, Lionel was his name, she believed, who she gave a sweet smile to and then began to pet her beautiful chestnut mare.

"Please make sure to water and groom her thoroughly before giving her a double serving of her normal food before the rest of the royal party arrives. I had her running quite hard to the city gates and she's been superb the entire trip. My sweet girl deserves a reward." she informed the boy to which he nodded and then gave a soft, "Right away, m'lady."

Lizzie had kept with the royal party, as was her duty as one of the Queen's ladies when the Stark's had split off and rushed ahead after the "horrid business with the wolves", as Cersei so eloquently put it, not even trying to hide the disgust and rage she had for the animals and their owners. Lizzie didn't dare correct her and tell Cersei that they were actually direwolves. She had to keep her appearance of complete indifference and naive loyalty, lest the Lannister's suddenly get suspicious that she was anything but exactly that. She was so committed and diligent to staying on the Lannister's good side, she'd committed Ser Egan to help to search the woods after Sansa's direwolf had oh so mysteriously disappeared while the king, queen and Lord Stark had all convened in the Inn to decide what was to be done after Prince Joffrey had been "attacked".

Ser Egan had spent the entire night searching the woods alongside the Lannister soldiers and upon returning in the morning, he displayed his lack of amusement at her schemes by sending her a nasty glare to which it took all of her willpower not to laugh at as she had been holding Sansa, who was weeping at the loss of Lady, in her arms.

Staying with the queen had been expected of her while there was still some distance to the city, but once they came within sight of the city, she asked the queen to allow her to exercise her beloved steed before she had to confine her to the stables. Cersei had granted it as she generally didn't care what Lizzie did as long as she was around when she required her and didn't cause trouble. Ever since she had come to King's Landing a year ago, Lizzie had less and less time it seemed to properly exercise her horse. She knew the stablemaster and the stablehands did it well enough but she liked to do it herself and enjoy the wind in her hair, the freedom, the feeling of being uncatchable and wild.

On Syrax, that's exactly what she was. Uncatchable, wild, and free.

Syrax was beautiful. Bred to be a warhorse. She was as swift as the wind and strong enough to jump any fence, but she lacked the temperament needed to joust or ride into battle. She bolted as the slightest sign of danger. Therefore, her father thought she was the perfect horse to give to his oldest daughter who loved to ride far more than any other activity.

"Sister! It's about time! I'd begun to think you had gotten lost and froze to death."

She sighed at hearing her brother shout across the courtyard of the Red Keep. Lizzie wanted a bath and a long nap and was in desperate need of them both. She hoped her brother would have other things to give his attention to until later tonight and she'd be able to slip up into her rooms undetected. She loved him. She did. But after all that she had endured the past months - the traveling, all of the events that had transpired at Winterfell, and before that even, with the death of Jon Arynn - she was exhausted.

Seeing her brother cross the expanse though, she couldn't help but smile as he moved to embrace her. Triston was her mirror image in male form. Identical in every way except personality.

Just like the Queen and the Kingslayer, everybody whispered.

Pulling back from her brother's embrace, she appraised him, "Yes, dear brother, I am back. Back from over a month of riding so if you don't mind, I'd like to retire to my chambers."

They were twins but that was where almost all similarity to the Lannister's ended. The Lannister twin's hair was gold like their mines. The Hightower's was a silvery blonde, like their grandmother who had come from Lys. Cersei was tall and slim. Elizabeth was barely five and a half feet and was slender with curves. The Lannister's had green eyes. The Hightower's had hazel. Cersei was cold whereas Elizabeth was warm. Jaime and Triston were opposites too. Both were strong, but Jaime was slender and Triston was bulky. Jaime was taller but had a much smaller build than her brother who had broad shoulders. Their sole similarity was that they never took anything seriously. Life seemed to be one big joke to them to the frustration of their other halves.

"Well then, I'll escort you! If you're exhausted, I can only imagine how poor Ser Egan feels. You're relieved for the rest of the day, Ser." Triston said grabbing her arm and pulling her along. She didn't see Ser Egan bow and shake his head at his charge and her twin. He knew exactly what they were running off to do.

"Triston, please can we talk after…"

"No." He cut her off. "You've been off galavanting the seven kingdoms while I had to go play chaperone for Lady Lenora. The least you can do is tell me tales of the wintery abode and all this business on the king's road that has everyone's tongues wagging."

"Oh, very well. But I don't think I can do the white walkers and giants justice. I'm not that good of a storyteller." she teased.

Of course, he'd want to spend time with her and she wanted to spend time with him too. This was the longest time they'd ever spent apart and there was so much to catch up on. Triston had been terribly bitter when he was told that he'd been committed to a task that wouldn't allow him to travel to the North with her. He'd been asked to go to Felwood in the Stormlands, where he was to retrieve their older brother Gerold's betrothed, Lenora Fell, and take her to Oldtown so she and Gerold could spend time together before their wedding which was presently less than two months away.

As it was, that meant they had spent nearly 4 months apart.

While they were complete opposites in personality, they understood each other completely. Normally, this was one of Lizzie's greatest comforts. She always went to Triston for advice and help before anyone else and he did the same with her. Of course, whether they actually heeded each other's advice was a different matter.

The fact he knew her so well was what had her so worried. He'd be able to see through her mask. He will know something had happened - that something had changed her - and he would not stop badgering her until he finds out what it is.

They walked arm in arm to her chamber's chatting idly. Anyone with sense knew that the hallways of the Red Keep were no place to gossip. If it wasn't Varys little birds listening in, it was Littlefinger's or the Queen's. Elizabeth had her own spies to watch out for her. There were only a few but their loyalty was unfailing and they were exceptionally good at keeping her informed.

She passed a maid and asked for a bath to be readied for her as soon as possible. The maid was quick to go to do just that, just like any servant in the Red Keep when she asked them to do anything. Being one of the few people who treated them with kindness had its advantages.

Finally, they reached her chambers. Triston opened the door, ushered her in, and closed the door shut enthusiastically behind her.

"Okay, out with it all. Don't you dare spare a single detail." He said hurrying over to her table to pour them both a glass of Arbor wine.

She ignored him and walked leisurely into the room and took off her riding gloves and cloak, placing them both on an armchair and rubbing her neck. Taking a deep breath, Lizzie tried to decide how and if she should tell him at all. If she was wrong, it would be disastrous for everyone involved. But if she was right... She needed Triston, no matter what. He teased her and often rubbed her nose in the fact that he had the freedoms that she so desperately craved, but he was her rock. Reliable and a constant. If it was true, he'd find out eventually and he'd be upset when he learned she kept information from him. If the situation was reversed, she'd be furious. After all, this was part of the reason they'd been sent to the Capitol.

She felt Triston walk up next to her and place a hand on her shoulder. Reaching out, she grabbed one of the wine glasses he was holding. He peered down at her with quizzical eyes.

"Lizzie…"

She took a big swig from her glass.

"I think Jon Arynn was murdered and the Stark boy didn't fall. He was pushed from the tower."

There. She said it. Or at least, she told him the important things.

A long pause lingered in the room.

She took a big sip from her wine and looked up at him. Triston stood there. Eyes wide, eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead, and mouth slightly parted so when he let out a deep breath that he'd been holding, she felt it on the top of her head.

Finally, he snapped out of it and chuckled. "Seven hells Lizzie, I leave you alone for a few months and everything goes to shit? I guess it's true what the bards say about it being bad luck for twins to be separated." he quipped with that irritatingly wide smile that he uses to charm his way out of anything. Then he got serious. "Are you sure? Because this isn't something to say lightly. I mean, if anyone were to hear a whisper of thi-"

"I know! Trust me, I do. I've had months to think about it and I know in my gut that Lord Arynn did not die naturally. He was murdered."

"Do you have proof?" he asked.

"Not anything concrete but we both know how the Tears of Lys work and I have seen it before with my own eyes. Jon Arryn was poisoned." Elizabeth and Triston had spent 3 months in Lys visiting their aunt just a year before. Elizabeth, who'd always been interested and dabbled in healing, visited many healing houses and there she saw the effect of the Tears on someone who had accidentally ingested it while making some.

Triston had sat down on the chair she'd thrown her cloak on, throwing his hands up in surrender and lounging back. "Alright, alright. I believe you. So who's on the suspect list? Are we to launch an investigation? Bring people in for questioning? Perhaps I should get a quill and paper to write this all down."

She withered a glare at him. "Will you be serious for once?"

He shrugged, "Ok, Jon Arynn was murdered. So what? Clearly, King Robert doesn't suspect anything or heads would be on spikes and this is the first I'm hearing of it. If anybody else does suspect, they either are like you and don't have evidence or don't care."

"Lord Stark will care." she mused.

Triston straightened up. "Lizzie, in the name of the Crone, please tell me you have enough sense not to tell the new Hand of the King these baseless accusations."

"Of course, I haven't. Do you take me for a fool? But Lord Stark is intelligent and he's going to figure it out on his own. He'll start retracing Lord Arynn's movements from before he died. That will lead him to Robert's bastards and once he starts asking questions, his life will be in danger from whoever killed Jon Arynn." Lizzie explained in an aggravated tone. People who underestimated the intelligence of northerners were fools. "And baseless accusations? I thought you said you believed me."

"I do! Everyone else though will see this as baseless accusations if you whisper a word of this to anyone. And Ned Stark hardly has enough time on his hands to be worried about what may have happened to a dead man with his new position. And what's this about his son being pushed? I'd heard he'd fallen from some tower. Two accusations of murder? Tut tut. Lizzie, you're getting as paranoid as the Mad King. I'm going to assume there is no evidence for this one either?" Triston cocked his head to the side and gave her a mocking smile.

"Ugh, you're impossible. I'm too tired to deal with you." She exclaimed, walking away from him to refill her glass. She was exasperated. He was just such a pain sometimes. She needed him to comfort her. She'd been carrying these secrets and suspicions for weeks and she'd been desperate to be able to say it out loud. Lizzie needed his help.

"Awww, my poor sweet sister. Let's stop this talk of treachery for a later time. Tell me about your adventure in the north. Is it as cold and grey as they say? Did you really see giants? What are the Starks like?"

She laughed as she poured the wine. "No, there weren't any giants. Although northern men are much taller and bigger than southern men."

"Oh, that's no fun," Triston pouted.

"The north is hardly boring though. It's beautiful, wild, and it's so big. It took a month to get there and two weeks of that was spent just in the North, albeit we took a ridiculously slow pace because of that wheelhouse the queen insisted on. Syrax and I were constantly frustrated on the journey there and back." Lizzie said with her back still turned to him.

"And the Starks?" he pressed.

"Oh, yes." Lizzie took another big sip and turned to walk over to the arrangement of chairs and cushions next to her fireplace, one of which Triston currently lounging in. "Well, the girls have traveled here to the capitol with their father and you'll meet them soon enough. They're complete opposites but I've grown fond of them both. Arya is wild, much like I was when I was her age. Sansa's the perfect little lady. I just hope I can get my hands on her and influence her before the Queen does. She's terribly naive. The north and her family are honorable and she's been sheltered. She'll need guidance and some maturing, especially since she is to be Joffrey's queen." She began undoing the braid that she had worn her hair in. Her hair was greasy, dirty, and a tangled mess. She hoped they sent one of the servants she liked because it was going to take a while to wash it and she would need help.

"Seven hells, the poor girl. I agree. It's best you try and help her." Triston had genuine sympathy in his voice for Sansa. They'd been in King's Landing for 5 months before Jon Arynn had died and that was more than enough time to discover that Joffrey was cruel, stupid, and weak."And what of Ned Stark?"

"He's exactly as the stories tell him. He and Robert are close. Closer than I've ever seen the king be with any of his actual brothers. Like I said earlier, he's smart. And he's honorable. A rare thing to be in this place and it makes him innocuous, except to himself of course."

Lizzie hoped that would be enough. His curiosity would be satisfied and he'd not pry.

"So a northern fool as the Hand. He shouldn't be here for too long. Still, he's someone we should at the very least be friendly with." Triston paused and he seemed to be lost in thought and she began to relax until he opened his mouth again.

"What about the rest of the Stark brood? Is it true Ned Stark's bastard looks more like him than his trueborn sons? That has to infuriate his wife." Seven hells, he had to ask about the exact person she didn't want to talk about. What should she say? Should she stay vague or simply answer straight forward? Too little or too much would give her away. God only knows what would happen if her father heard of her running off alone with a northerner, not just once or twice, but a countless amount of times. She did her best to keep her face neutral and the mask of impassivity that she reserved for noble lords and ladies firmly in place. While trying to sort her thoughts and figure out how to navigate herself out of this, she took too long to answer and Triston seized the opportunity to tease her.

"Huh... Why so quiet about Ned Stark's sons?" Triston waggled his eyebrows at her. She knew that glint in his eyes. He was readying to dig and he wouldn't stop until he unearthed whatever he was looking for.

"It's nothing. The rumors are true." She dismissed. 'Please let him go away', she prayed to the Seven.

"Oh, what rumors would we be referring to? The one about the bastard? Or the ones about you flirting and becoming… how should we put it? Close to Robb Stark?"

Lizzie's breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. How had he known? Was she that obvious? Had father heard? Was she to be sent back to Oldtown? Who els-

Her panicked thoughts were interrupted by her brother's uproarious laughter. He'd thrown his head back in laughter and had a hand over his belly. What exactly he found so funny was beyond her.

"Well, that confirms that suspicion," Triston smirked and continued laughing.

"You scheming, devious, leecher! How dare you trick me!" She grabbed a pillow and threw it at his face causing him to only laugh harder. He hadn't known anything, he had just guessed and she'd fallen right into his trap. He knew her too well.

"Oh relax. The only way I had known what to guess is because I ran into some of the Stark's household this morning. The Captain of their household guard was in the tiltyard and I introduced myself and inquired about you. He was helpful enough to regale me with all sorts of tales about your time in the north. I'm kind of hurt you managed to have so much fun without me? I feel inconsequential. Like I've been replaced." He teased and pouted.

Lizzie scoffed and tried to shrug it off. "Stop with the dramatics. You're my twin. Nobody could ever replace you. And it was nothing. Just some harmless flirting."

"Oh really? Nothing? Riding off into the Wolfwood with Robb Stark chasing after you. Sneaking into the kitchens with Robb Stark. Sitting in the Great Hall of Winterfell next to Robb Stark and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. And that's just what he observed. I know you, Lizzie. Gods only know what you sneaked around doing. My, my, my Lizzie, if that's nothing, I wonder what constitutes something to you."

Damn, Jory Cassel. She was going to have him whipped the next time she saw him. Not really. But she'd be informing him of the need for discretion here in the capitol. She had already convinced the Queen that it was a ploy to turn her father away from a betrothal to someone in the Vale. She didn't need rumors being spread and the Queen questioning her again.

She felt her shoulders sag. For the millionth time it felt like, she went over what an idiot she had been. Gods, how could she be so stupid? She should've stayed away from him. Robb was everything she had told herself to guard her heart against. Noble girls are not allowed to get their hopes up and dream of boys. Marriage matches are made for them and sometimes if they're lucky they get a small say in it.

But that's the thing, wasn't it? She had tried to stay away from him. She avoided him. She walked the other way in the courtyard upon their arrival and she ignored the way he looked at her at the feast that same night. Their first few interactions she kept friendly but brief and maintained all sense of propriety. She'd even used his bastard brother, Jon, by pretending to be lost and asked him to escort her to the stables and gave him a peck on the cheek as a thank you in plain view of everyone. Lizzie thought that if he'd seen her being warm and affectionate with his baseborn brother while refusing to do the same with him, it'd put him off. It had instead had the exact opposite effect.

And if anything, she could blame the gods because they had blessed Robb Stark. He was charming in a way that she had never experienced before. It wasn't the perfumed and vapid flattery of the southern boys she was used to. It was honest, kind, and at times, intense. The way he'd looked at her, really looked at her. Not out of obligation or politeness but with a focus that showed he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. He wanted to know her thoughts and opinions. Robb cared enough to ask and be committed to hearing her answer and then went through everything she said with a fine-tooth comb. Sometimes for more details, other times to debate her, and a few times to tease her about a particular trivial thing that she got passionate about. It was a devotion that she'd never experienced from any man before.

That's not to even mention the other way she caught him looking at her. The way that had made her flesh warm and it difficult to breathe. There were far too many nights she woke up aching because of dreams that featured those blue eyes looking at her.

The thought of it made her flush.

"Lizzie, it's hardly that serious…" Triston started bewildered at seeing her face go red.

He probably assumed it was from anger. After all, she'd never been a blushing maiden before. It was a side of her that he'd never seen before. Four months ago it hadn't existed.

She didn't want to talk about this. She pushed herself up and walked away behind the changing screen to start taking off her riding dress. The strings were in the front and she was able to take off the dress easily without a handmaid. It was a simple dress but impeccably well made. It was bright blue and had a boat neck cut with long sleeves made of satin that was perfectly tailored and stopped at her wrist to allow for her leather riding gloves and protected her from the elements. It cinched at her waist and then billowed out and allowed for the dress to fold in on itself to hide the extra fabric and underskirt that hid her legs when she was riding but didn't hinder her movements when she was walking.

Slipping the dress off of her, she hoped her brother would leave or the maids would hurry up with her bathwater. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case. As Elizabeth reached for her Myrish silk robe, she heard his voice come through the cracks in the mahogany wood of her changing screen.

"Unless it is that serious. Sweet Lizzie… don't tell me you've followed cousin Margarey's example of allowing her, ahem, flower to be plucked. No judgment if you did but I hope you were discreet about it and drank some moon tea. The last thing the Starks need is another bastard running around."

Throwing the robe on and tightly securing it, she marched out from behind the screen, and with a light voice that she hoped hid just how on edge her nerves were, she said, "Don't even joke about that. Robb would never act so dishonorably, nor would I. Father would have me locked up in the High Tower with Grandfather and Aunt Malora if people started spreading tales that I was running around with a northern boy."

"Now who's being dramatic... Grandfather adores you and would never do such a thing. 'The Pearl of Oldtown and the Light of the High Tower'!" Triston mocked her with the title she'd been given since she was a little girl. "Even if he did hear about it grandfather would hardly care. He let Aunt Lynesse marry a northerner of a far lesser house."

"Yes, he did, and look how that turned out." She gave him a pointed look. "I don't want to argue about this. It hardly matters. I didn't even let him kiss me." Lizzie sighed and flung herself on her bed. Triston followed after her, grabbed onto one of the wooden posts on the corner of her bed, and peered over at her.

"Let him? So he did try to kiss you?"

Ugh, he was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to know something.

Thankfully, the maids decided to knock at that moment and announce her bath water was ready to be brought in.

"Well, time for you to leave. I have an entire kingdom worth of dirt to get off of me and then I plan on sleeping until dawn." She jumped up from the bed and grabbed his arm dragging him out but Triston never the one to be deterred and filled with an incessant need to get in the last word said, "Ha ha ha, this conversation is simply delayed, Lizzie. I'll get the truth out of you. We didn't even get to the business on the King's Road with the wolves." She grabbed the door and opened it up to see servants holding multiple pitchers of steaming water. And oh good, the exact person she had wanted to come had.

"You all might just be my favorite people in the world at this moment. Do come in, come in." She exclaimed holding the door open and allowing them to walk in and then turning to her brother, she gave him a good shove out the door. "And you, you menace, get out and stop pestering me for gossip like a fishwife. Don't you have someone to be squiring for anyway?" Triston had worked tirelessly for weeks and months to convince her father to find someone for him to squire for. As it turned out when he finally conceded and sent inquiries out, Ser Barristan Selmy himself offered to have him as his squire. The famous knight had said that he owed it to their great-great-uncle Ser Gerold Hightower, who had been the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and a mentor and friend to him, to personally see to the training of his slain friend's kin. Her brother was obsessed with him and would do just about anything to impress the older man.

"So demanding but yes, I suppose you're right. He should be getting back at any moment with the King. I'll see you whenever you emerge from your slumber so we can both continue our 'investigations'." Pressing a kiss to her forehead while she rolled her eyes, Triston then turned and walked away. She closed the door and walked over to where they were preparing the bath.

"Could you put the oils from Lys in? The subtle flowery one. It's been one of the few extravagances I've missed. And could you stay and help me with my hair? I'm afraid it's quite the disaster and we have our work cut out for us." She asked her favorite servant, Becca, with a smile.

There was an oil she liked, but it didn't smell flowery. She left that for her cousins, the Tyrell's. Her preferred scent was something sweet, unlike anything she'd ever smelled before. In Lys, they called it vanilla. It was ridiculously expensive and her father had written to her twice asking her to try to find a different oil to love that was less expensive. She just used that as a special phrase that let Becca know she'd like for a report on any information

"Of course, m'lady. It's so nice to have you back, along with the rest of the court. It's been awfully quiet here the past months." replied Becca.

Becca was an orphan. Her mother and father had been servants in the Red Keep during the Mad King's rule. She miraculously escaped being killed during the Sack of King's Landing, mostly due to the fact that she had been one of Varys little birds up until a few years ago. Now, she was a woman of twenty-four years who was extremely sweet and while not pretty, she wasn't ugly either. She was plain, with her brown hair, brown eyes, and thin body which is what made her perfect for being a spy. Nobody ever suspects plain servant girls. For her services, Lizzie provided protection, some gold, and her word that she'd help Becca find a good man to wed and take care of her once her services were no longer needed.

Her bath was ready and the rest of the servants left closing the door behind them. She undid her robe and stepped in sighing as she felt the warm water ease her muscles and rid her skin of dirt and sweat. Becca hovered nearby but she knew that Lizzie didn't like to talk until it was time to do her hair so their voices were hushed just in case someone was listening at the door. After a minute, she began scrubbing her body with a cloth, some soap, and oils in silence.

Once she was finished getting rid of the dirt on her body, she grabbed the blade and took the time to shave. Being smooth once again was a relief. She then turned to Becca and asked her to begin washing her hair.

"How are you, Becca? I missed you. Nobody can do my hair like you although I hardly needed it in the north. They wear it much simpler there." Lizzie smiled while closing her eyes and leaned back, letting the water be poured over her head.

"I'm well m'lady. It was quiet with the King and Queen having been gone but it allowed us to have some free time on our hands. Lyra, one of Princess Myrcella's handmaids, has found herself with child. It's one of the Lannister guards. She'll probably be telling him today and they'll have to wed because she'll be dismissed and without means to provide for herself and the babe. And a bunch of us maids went exploring the tunnels underneath the city. We managed to find a path to the cliffs and a little hidden beach outside of the keep."

This is one of the reasons she liked Becca. She wasn't just good for political information. She knew the Red Keep almost better than anyone and was well-liked among all the other servants. She told her of things that seemed inconsequential but Lizzie always found to be interesting.

"Did you? How interesting." Lizzie mused.

"Yea, we did m'lady. But I know you'll be wanting to hear about more important matters. There isn't that much to tell ya, m'lady. I tried to figure out why Lady Arynn left all suddenly but all I managed to discover is that she'd been acting scared lately. Looking over her shoulder and the like, more paranoid than normal, forgive me for saying so. Lord Baratheon, the older one, left for Dragonstone some time ago and hasn't come back. Whispers say there's a red priestess of that fire god from Essos living in the castle there. And then there was news from across the narrow sea. About the Targaryen's. It caused quite a stir." Becca worked her fingers through Lizzie's hair, spreading the oils by running a comb through it and ridding her of the knots.

"Yes, I did hear something of that while we were on the King's Road. My sworn sword has told me some tales of his encounters with the Dothraki and they terrified me. They sound so brutal and merciless. I can't imagine being forced to marry one. That poor girl." Lizzie shuddered while Becca poured a pitcher of water over her head rinsing the oils out. Forced marriages to cruel men was a touchy subject for any girl. "How is Vary's getting the information? I thought his little birds had difficulty getting into the manse of the Magister who was hosting them?"

"He's employed a knight from Westeros who's looking for a pardon from some crimes and pretending to be a Targaryen loyalist. Ser Jorah Mormont is who it is." Lizzie leaned up suddenly. That was her good uncle! She'd never met him and he was one of the things to blame for why she had no hope of ever being allowed to marry Robb or any other northerner. Her Aunt Lynesse had fallen in love with Ser Jorah after he had won a tournament and her grandfather had agreed to their marriage. It didn't last long because she was miserable on Bear Island as it was a far cry from the south and all of its fineries that her aunt had been used to. Ser Jorah had been caught selling poachers to slavers trying to make her happy and Ned Stark went to make him face justice for his crimes. Her aunt and uncle had fled to Lys until eventually, they separated and Aunt Lynesse was now the chief concubine to the merchant-lord Tregar Ormollen.

Lizzie, Triston, and their uncle had visited her just over a year ago. She was happy and ruled the manse she lived in, to the point where even his wife was scared of Lynesse. It was impressive how she had turned the worst of circumstances to her favor. Lizzie, while she didn't look favorably on how her aunt had behaved, loved her family unconditionally and it wasn't her place to question or look down on her aunt. Her aunt and she looked a lot alike and as such Lynesse had taken a liking to her, even if they were very different in personality. It was part of the reason that Lizzie had so many things from Lys.

What would it mean for her aunt if her disgraced knight of a husband got a pardon? And the Targaryens being tied in marriage to a man with an army that big was worrisome. It didn't matter that they'd never crossed the sea. Lizzie had grown up surrounded by maesters. She knew that even if something had never happened before, it didn't mean that it would never happen.

She turned to Becca who held out a hand to help her out of the bath, "That's interesting... Ser Jorah is related to me by marriage to my aunt so I'd like it if you could pay extra care to any news about him. I'd like to be prepared in case he gets the pardon and returns to Westeros." The only thing to do now was to wait for more information.

Becca nodded and helped her dry herself off and put on a nightgown.

"Would you like me to braid your hair m'lady? It's grown even longer than the queen's."

Lizzie's hair was very long. The longest curls went all the way to the small of her back and even though it was darkened by the water, you could still see that it was a pale white-blonde color. "No, I'd like to leave it. I'm afraid I'd fall asleep at my vanity waiting for you to finish." Lizzie replied.

The white-blonde hair of the Hightowers was well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They had married with the Targaryens and Lyseni to the point where it was a fifty-fifty chance of getting the hair. It was a well-known fact and yet that didn't stop King Robert from glaring at her and her brother anytime he caught sight of them. He'd even threatened to kill Triston one time in a drunken rage, accidentally mistaking him for Rhaegar. It took three Kingsguard to persuade him that Rhaegar was dead and Triston wasn't a threat.

Lizzie often thought Cersei liked to bring her around Robert for that exact reason. Nevermind how scared it made her, angering Robert gave her too much satisfaction to pass up the opportunity.

"That'll be all, Becca. You can tell them to bring up some food later tonight but to leave it at the door because I'm not sure when I'll wake."

Becca curtsied, gave a soft, "Sleep well, m'lady" and left the room.

Lizzie climbed into her bed and drew the curtains around her bed to block out the sun. She'd had them put there for this very reason as she often liked to take midday naps.

Laying on her back in the darkness, Lizzie closed her eyes and had a million thoughts running through her head. Robb. Triston. Her upcoming trip home to Oldtown. Robb. Ned Stark. The tournament for the Hand that was doubtless going to occur. Her aunt and exiled uncle. Robb. Dothraki. Targaryens. Aunt Melora. The smell of snow. Sansa and Arya. Direwolves. Robb.

With all of these thoughts swirling in her head, she finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lady Hightower! How lovely to see you! Girls, isn't it lovely to see Lady Hightower again?"

Elizabeth gave a big smile to Septa Mordane and let her eyes wander around the room upon being allowed into the Tower of the Hand. It was one of the few places she'd never been in the Red Keep. Her plans for the Stark girls today provided the perfect excuse.

She had hoped to be here much earlier but the seamstress took much longer than she had anticipated as she'd been overcome with fabric choices and picking a style. In the end, she decided not to choose and got them all, effectively spending a small fortune on an entirely new wardrobe. She expected to be hearing from her father soon enough about the expense. Regardless, they'd be ready in a month's time and once that was done and she'd taken her midday meal, she grabbed Ser Egan and took the long walk over to the Hand's Tower.

"LIZZIE!" Arya cheered from where she sat at the table causing Elizabeth to start laughing.

Poor Arya. She was in a proper dress and her hair was done in the same hairstyle that Lizzie knew she hated. She had embroidery and a needle in her hand, although Lizzie knew she'd much rather have a different Needle. Sitting next to her holding her own needle was Sansa, her dark red hair making a pang of sadness go through Lizzie. Both of them were dressed in their traditional northern dresses and must have been sweltering in the heat of King's Landing.

"Arya, don't yell and don't refer to Lady Hightower so informally. It's not becoming of a lady." Septa Mordane scolded. Arya opened her mouth to argue but Lizzie cut in. "It's quite alright, Septa Mordane. I've told Lady Arya and Lady Sansa that they can refer to me however they're comfortable with. I don't stand very big on formalities and prefer to hear my friends call me by my first name." Septa Mordane didn't look too happy about that but nodded. "I was actually hoping I could steal you two away and show you around the Red Keep. That is if it's okay with Septa Mordane."

Arya and Sansa both started at the same time.

"Please Septa Mordane! Please! Please!"

"That's so kind, Lady Elizabeth. Can we, Septa?"

Lizzie gave a chuckle, she knew she'd get this exact response. They were just so young and full of spirit.

Septa Mordane hushed them, "Yes, you may go. I trust you both to be on your best behavior for Lady Hightower. Shall I go get a guard to escort you?"

Lizzie shook her head. "Thank you, Septa. And that won't be necessary. I have Ser Egan with me. He's just outside talking to Jory." Septa Mordane seemed to be pleased that she'd already thought of that. Turning to the girls she'd clapped her hands together. "But we had best hurry so put that sewing down! We have lots to see."

The girls hurried to their feet and followed after her.

Ser Egan and Jory Cassel were in a conversation out in the hallway when they walked out.

"...aye, the tiltyard here is nothing like Winterfell's. Bunch of knights with fancy swords and armor and not much to show for it in skill. Pardon me, my lady, I didn't see ya there." Jory said to her, giving her a bow.

Just moments ago, she'd firmly but kindly told him that it was best if he didn't readily share information to anyone in the Red Keep about the Starks or her. He'd been slightly offended. He took her to mean he was being disloyal to the Starks but she quickly assured him that wasn't her meaning at all. Just that people in the South loved to take the smallest morsel of information and manipulate it to serve their own purpose. Lizzie explained that she doesn't want that to happen to the Starks. She also told him her brother was a pest who loved to torment her and she'd appreciate him not giving Triston anything to hold over her head. Jory got a good laugh out of that but agreed on both points nonetheless.

"Oh, that's quite alright Jory. The girls and I were just going to take a tour of the Keep. Would you like to join us? I know all the best hiding spots…"

Jory looked down at her and gave her his sweet smile. She was fond of him and he reminded her of her Uncle Humfrey. "Would that I could, my lady. But I have to stay here in case Lord Stark has a need for me. I trust Ser Egan here to watch out for you and keep you out of trouble." Ser Egan nodded. Her knight was rarely talkative and typically spoke little around strangers. It had taken her close to a year to get him to have a decent conversation with her after they'd first met. Although that might have had more to do with her being so young and a girl rather than his lack of desire to communicate.

"Oh no, I guess we'll have to do without you. Pity, I do love northern men." She winked at him and smirked causing Jory to blush. "Well, Ser Egan it's best we be on our way. The walk down to the dungeons alone will take us a while."

"The dungeons? Why would we go down there?" asked Sansa as they started walking down the steps.

"To see the dragon skulls! They're marvelous and one of my favorite things about the Red Keep!"

"Dragon skulls! Are they big, Lizzie? Is Balerion the Dread down there? " asked Arya, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Yes, he is. You know your history well, Arya. And they're the biggest animal you've ever seen! One of their teeth is twice the size of me." Lizzie explained looping her arm through Sansa's who all of a sudden didn't look too sure and pulling her along.

"Lizzie, I don't know-"

Arya cut her off. "Sansa, don't be so scared. They're just dusty old bones."

Lizzie guided them to turn and walk by the throne room. They'd see it eventually and she didn't like the Iron Throne or the room. It gave her the creeps. She also didn't feel it appropriate considering their family history.

"Arya, it's okay to be scared of them. I was the first time I saw them."

Arya huffed and rolled her eyes then proceeded to walk ahead of them despite not knowing where she was going. Lizzie smiled and shook her head but looked back at Ser Egan who knew exactly what she was asking of him without her having to say it and he walked ahead of her and Sansa to catch up with Arya and make sure she didn't get lost. She needed to figure out a way for the girls to get along. They didn't need to like each other but they needed to trust and support each other. King's Landing was a rat's nest and family needed to be united, especially outsiders like the Starks.

"I love your dress. It's different than the ones you wore at Winterfell and on the King's Road. And your hair is beautiful!"

Lizzie smiled at Sansa's compliments. Her dress was made of light and breezy silk and had a deep plunge in the front that went down to her fourth rib. It was silver and green and had cap sleeves that showed off her arms. It was one of her favorite dresses. Her hair was ornately done in a half-up, half-down style with a large bun of braids and two curls falling on both sides of her face. It wasn't how she preferred it but it was how the Queen and her mother liked it.

It took them awhile to get to the dungeons and on the way, she pointed out the entrance to the Maiden Vault, the garden, the library, the quiet corner she liked to read, the kitchens, the terrace where the Queen frequently had gatherings, even the godswood.

"There's a godswood here in King's Landing?" Arya had asked. Lizzie nodded, "Every keep and castle has a godswood from before the Faith of the Seven was established, or at least most of them do. Some of them even have heart trees but they're nowhere near as beautiful and big as Winterfell's." Both Sansa and Arya had smiled at the praise she gave their home and she hurried them along to the entrance down to the dungeons.

Sansa once again hesitated while Arya raced Ser Egan down the steps.

Lizzie nudged her. "We'll only walk by a couple and I won't leave your side." Sansa gave a small smile of appreciation. "It's on the way to where I really want to take you both. I thought you could do with some sea breeze to help cool you from this heat and there's a lovely small beach you can get to from a little known passage down there. It is also one of the few places where the smell of the city is… well, not gone, but not as bad."

"That does sound lovely. Lizzie, you're so kind. Thank you for this and everything you've done for me. This place is so big. I don't know how I'm going to make it my home someday." Sansa despaired as they walked down the narrow steps behind each other.

Poor girl. She was in over her head. Nonetheless, she'd made a promise and was going to uphold it so she did her best to comfort her. "I wouldn't worry yourself over it. When you're the queen you'll have no shortage of options to change the Red Keep to make it more comfortable for you. And showing you around is nothing after all the hospitality you gave me at Winterfell."

"Don't you mean the hospitality Robb showed you? I rarely saw you at Winterfell." Sansa boldly teased. Lizzie's eyes widened. Maybe Sansa has more nerve than she'd originally thought. As she turned to Sansa to make a retort and come up with an excuse, she saw Sansa's face that was frozen in shock and awe at seeing the dragon skulls.

The skulls Arya were climbing all over.

It took seconds for Sansa to overcome the shock and instantly stride across the room over to Balerion, whose mouth Arya was hanging from the roof of.

"Arya! Get down before you hurt yourself or break it! I'm going to tell father you're making trouble. Lady Elizabeth was kind enough to bring us down here. Don't ruin it! Will you pleas-ARYA!"

Lizzie just laughed at them and shared a look with Ser Egan who stood in the corner out of the way laughing himself. He had to have lifted Arya to where she was and did so fully well knowing Sansa wouldn't react well.

It went on for a few more minutes before Lizzie decided to intervene.

"Arya! I hope you're not too busy for me to show you the secret passageway to the beach that's down here. It's the best place to go if you need to have some alone time."

Arya leaped down from Balerion's giant front tooth and raced over to her with an exasperated Sansa following after them.

"Would it be a good place to…" Arya looked around making sure Sansa was still far behind them."...you know… practice with Needle?"

"The dragons weren't the only reason I decided to bring you down here." She winked causing Arya to have an extra bounce in her steps and smile bigger than Lizzie had ever seen on her. Lizzie understood breaking the rules and feeling suffocated by the expectations that came with being the daughter of a Lord. She had been the oldest girl and had to suffer it alone until she eventually grew out of it. "Although you have to be careful not to get caught, even though anybody rarely comes down here."

"I'll be careful, Lizzie. Thank you so much! No wonder Robb and Jon like you so much."

Why? Why? Why did she have to bring up Robb? Lizzie forced a small smile to hide her annoyance.

Keeping her promise to watch out for them was going to make it so difficult, near impossible to remove him from her thoughts. Luckily, she would only have to endure it for a little over a month and then she'd be heading to Oldtown for Gerold's wedding. She'd be away from any reminders of him and the Stark's and she could focus on other things.

They spent some time at the beach and soaked in some of the evening sunlight before heading back to the Tower of the Hand. The girls were exhausted and moving slowly when they came upon Lord Stark walking up the stairs as the sun set over Blackwater Bay,

He looked to be weary and Lizzie couldn't help but feel pity for the man. It was plain to see he hadn't asked for nor wanted this. It was only out of love for Robert and his sense of honor that compelled him to come south.

He smiled as they came to the entrance to the Tower.

"There you two are. Septa Mordane says you left in the early afternoon. I hope you had fun?" Lord Stark asked with appraising eyes. She couldn't be sure but she felt them linger on her for a moment longer than she expected him to just like he had since they had left Winterfell.

"Aye, Father. Lizzie showed us so much! We know our way around the Red Keep now and shouldn't get lost." Arya exclaimed. Lord Stark smiled fondly at his daughter's enthusiasm.

"That's good to hear. Lady Hightower, it's good to see you again. How was the rest of your journey on the King's Road? Hopefully less eventful?"

Less eventful? Lizzie wondered if she knew what she had done. There wasn't any way he could know so there was no reason to be paranoid. Even if he did, she doubted he'd bring it to the King or Queen's attention. Not that she regretted it. No, she'd risk it and do it again if she had to.

"It went smoothly, Lord Hand, but far too slowly for my liking or my horses. And how are you settling into the Red Keep?"

He looked amused at her answer and she was fairly certain, he did suspect something. "It's… different but I'll manage. I met your brother today. It's striking how much you two look alike."

"The curse of all twins, I'm afraid." she joked and got a chuckle out of him.

"Aye, I suppose that's true."

"Could we meet your brother, Lady Elizabeth? Is he a knight?" Sansa asked with starry eyes. 'Oh Sansa,' Lizzie thought to herself. 'My heart hurts to think your dreams of knights and chivalry will be taken from you.' Nevermind, that she didn't want to introduce Triston to anyone as that meant having to talk to him and that was something she was going to avoid until she got ahold of her feelings or he grew bored and forgot all about their conversation.

"My brother is squire to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, so no, he's not a knight yet. But he is often so busy I go days without seeing him and I can't make any promises on making an introduction. But I shall try my hardest. At the very latest, you'll meet him at the Hand's Tourney." Sansa glowed at the mention of the tournament while Lord Stark visibly darkened. "But I won't keep you two or your father anymore."

"Aye, I'd like a word with Lady Hightower and it is time for you two to sup. After that, you'll write letters home to your mother and brothers. Off you go, now. ."

A word with her? It could only be about one or two things. Lizzie felt her heart start to race.

Both girls quickly obeyed their father, knowing he was dismissing them and began walking up the stairs while saying their farewells.

"Good night, Lady Elizabeth," Sansa said sweetly

Arya not to be outdone followed with, "G'night Lizzie. I'm going to tell Robb all about today. He's going to be terribly jealous."

Seven hells, Arya really needs to learn to guard her tongue. Lizzie stood there, unsure of how to respond. Her eyes darted to see what Lord Stark's reaction would be. Once again there was that look on his face that made it seem as if he was sizing her up although she could detect some mirth displayed on his face with the slight tilt of his lips.

"Arya!"

"Well, it's true." Arya defended.

"That doesn't mean you should say it. Especially in front of father..." Sansa's voice faded as they walked up the stairs.

Could this be any more mortifying? She willed her face to stop blushing and closed her eyes wishing Arya Stark wasn't as full of spirit.

Lord Stark, thankfully, did not comment on her red face and instead said, "I wanted to thank you for all of the kindness you've shown my daughters, my lady. Winterfell was all they've ever known before and I worried how they would settle in here. My fears are somewhat eased with them having a friend like you by their side."

"I'm happy to do it. Think nothing of it, my lord."

Lord Stark smiled kindly at her.

"I disagree. I won't forget everything you've done for my daughters. If there is anything I can do to repay you, I'd have you ask it of me now."

"My Lord Hand, truly it is nothing. Not too long ago, I was a girl here for the first time all by myself and wish someone would've shown me kindness."

Ned Stark shook his head. "Today was kind of you but if my suspicions are correct what you did for my daughter's on the King's Road was more than just a kindness. You have my gratitude for sparing my daughters from pain. You prevented a deep rift from happening between them. One that might have been too vast to remedy."

He knew. Eddard Stark really was smarter than people gave him credit for. However, at this moment, she needed him to be even more intelligent as she glanced at the man scrubbing the floors down the hall who had slowed in his chore since the girls had left and kept sneaking glances at them.

Giving a tight-lipped smile, she took a step closer to Lord Stark and spoke in a hushed tone.

"My lord, while I appreciate your gratitude, I do like being alive and if we continued this conversation that would come to an end if the Queen were to hear this."

Puzzled he said, "How would the Queen hear of this?"

"My Lord Hand, take care not to look alarmed but behind you is a man scrubbing the floors who if I were a betting woman, which I am, I'd wager 50 stags is a spy for the Queen." Lord Stark's eyes widened and he stiffened but she continued on. "As for your suspicions, yes and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. The pack survives unless I am mistaken.

Lord Stark stared down at her in… she wasn't sure exactly what. There was some shock, a little anger, but mostly there was that same appraising look he'd been giving her since they set out on the King's Road from Winterfell. She boldly kept his gaze showing that she wasn't a scared and timid girl. Slowly, a slight upturn of his lips appeared. Not a smile, but not the frown he'd sported a moment before. The servant behind him had gone completely still by now trying to hear them but she knew he was too far away to hear anything. Cersei would know her and Lord Stark had shared words, but not what those words were.

He cleared his throat and his eyes softened at her last words, "No, my lady, You are not mistaken."

He gave her a slightly cautious but still warm smile which she returned. Taking a step back, she spoke at a slightly louder than normal tone.

"I do hope I was of service to you Lord Hand. Tobho Mott is one of the best blacksmiths in the city and anything you need you should be able to acquire there. I would hurry as he'll be in high demand as the tournament approaches."

Lord Stark furrowed his eyebrows in confusion to which she moved her sight to over his shoulder and returned to him with a raised eyebrow. Realization dawned on his face.

"Indeed, my lady. Thank you for your… advice. I won't keep you any longer."

"Goodnight, my Lord Hand." She gave a flawless curtesy and turned to leave.

"Oh and Lady Elizabeth?"

"Yes, my Lord Hand?"

Turning back to look at him, he had a look on his face that made her uneasy.

"I'll speak to Arya about her letter to Robb and ask her not to mention you."

Lizzie's breath caught in her throat. Was this him saying he didn't approve? Not that there was anything to approve of. They had done nothing. Her and Robb were nothing. Her heart was sad at the thought but it was the truth. The Hand of the King and Warden of the North was well within his rights to say that she wasn't suited for his son for any number of reasons. She knew that and had expected it. But expecting it and not being hurt by it were two entirely different things.

"... unless you don't mind? I'm sure Robb would like to hear about you even if it does make him jealous."

Lord Stark was now smirking at her. The Starks really did enjoy embarrassing her. Normally, she wouldn't be caught off guard by remarks like the ones leveled at her today but it was the fact that they came from the Stark's that caught her by surprise. Lizzie never expected it from the stern northerners.

Lizzie bit her lip to stop herself from smiling and bowed her head to hide her face that once again was pink. She couldn't seem too eager nor too reluctant. A neutral response would have to do.

"No, Lord Stark. Arya can talk about whomever she would like to. I don't mind."

He nodded and then began to walk up the stairs into the Tower.

Taking a deep breath, Lizzie was certain the Stark's were going to be nothing but trouble for her.

Elizabeth wasn't sure why Cersei asked her to accompany her to the Hand's tourney. Cersei didn't even like tournaments and she never stayed the entire time.

'Misery does love company.' she thought to herself. And to think if only she had agreed to go with Triston, she would have avoided this. But then again, she was still avoiding being alone with Triston.

She had been about to hop on Syrax to ride out to the tourney grounds when she heard the fake sweet voice of Queen Cersei come up behind her.

"There you are, little dove. I was hoping to have some womanly company today. You'll sit close to me at the joust?" Cersei Lannister didn't ask people to do things, she demanded. A question wasn't actually a question. It was a dare. A dare to challenge or deny her what she saw as hers. And in the mind of Cersei Lannister, the whole world was hers.

Elizabeth knew better. She'd been a lady in Cersei's court for nearly 10 months and had learned how to play the role that Cersei saw her in and the one that had been given to her when she was sent to the capital. Lizzie was if nothing else a good actress. So she dipped into a deep curtsey and replied with a demure, "Of course, Your Grace. I'm at your service."

"Good, I shall meet you there. I won't keep you from riding that beast you love so much."

And now here she sat.

It was a beautiful day for a tourney and many of the most prominent houses of the Seven Kingdoms were here, either as spectators or as part of the tournament. The lists were full of all the knights of the songs, Kingsguard, hedge knights, unsung free riders, younger sons of high lords and the heirs of lesser houses. The only Kingsguard that were in the lists today was Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Meryn Trant, and Ser Boros Blount. The other four were guarding the King and Queen. There were so many people in the lists she wouldn't be surprised if it took two days for the jousting to be finished. Even some of the Stark household had entered.

Lizzie placed her bets on her cousin, Loras. He had won the last tournament to the shock and upset of many, except for her and Tyrion Lannister who had bet on him, when he unseated Jamie Lannister. Many were counting on him to be triumphant again.

Elizabeth was seated in a place of honor off to the side of the platform reserved for the royal party and sitting in front of a Baratheon sigil. She'd much rather be sitting with Renly or at least close to her brother wherever he was. In the past month, she hadn't seen Triston but in passing and but for a dinner together a week ago with Loras.

Looking about, Lizzie observed Sansa, Arya, and their Septa sitting down on the foremost bench. A front-row seat to their first viewing of the blood sport wasn't what she would've allowed for her younger sibling. She hoped there wouldn't be too much bloodshed today. Arya probably wouldn't care but she knew how terrified Sansa would most likely be. Lord Stark was conspicuously absent but that didn't surprise her. He was infamous for abstaining from tournaments and he'd been very vocally against the Hand's Tournament even happening.

It'd been a month since the return to the capital and life had returned to relatively normal. She had gotten back into her normal everyday life. Arya and Sansa had settled in well. Arya even more so since her father had arranged for her to be taught how to use Needle properly by a Bravossi dancing master. Lord Stark had asked Ser Egan for help in finding someone suitable and discreet for his daughter to learn how to defend herself and he had obliged. This led to him being disgruntled and mumbling under his breath about women taking up arms all a sudden, first with her wanting a dagger and now little Arya Stark becoming a water dancer.

Sansa had been introduced to all the ladies of the court with Lizzie by her side. They'd been wary of her and a little cold. Mostly due to the fact that she seemed so different and they knew that she was one day going to be their queen. Lizzie had sought to help make her less of an outsider by giving her a handmaid who had begun doing Sansa's hair in more southern styles. Sansa didn't need to know that the handmaid was also a spy; tasked with observing both her and the Lord Hand. She was also planning on gifting her an old dress for her to wear that was much more southern in style and suited better for the weather in King's Landing.

Glancing over at Cersei, she began to wonder why she had asked her to sit with her. She hadn't spoken a word to her and she looked miserable just being here.

The sun was beginning to beat down and the crowd was getting restless as was evidently the King as he suddenly got up and bellowed with slurred speech.

"I've been sitting here for DAYS! Start the damn joust before I piss me self!"

He reached for more wine while the crowd cheered and that was all Cersei needed to be disgusted. She stood up with Lizzie quickly following, along with Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard, and stormed off with a look of disgust on her face.

The horns sound as they began walking through the rows of tents. So much for watching the tourney, she thought to herself. Cersei was stewing. She would want to rant with someone to listen to it and agree with her.

"Damn fools. Absolutely worthless. All of them! They're all blinded by bloodlust and with not a single clever thought in their heads."

Cersei passed by the tents where all the knights were preparing and waiting for their turn in the lists. They all bowed but Cersei wasn't paying attention to any of it. She claimed that men were blinded by bloodlust but this woman was just as easily blinded by rage.

"They're all more likely to fall into an early grave with their drinking, whoring, and fighting than they are to win any battles." Cersei spat her words as if they were venom. She had walked until they were near her litter that would take her back to the Red Keep but Cersei paced the grounds and the servants tittered around her nervously. Lizzie had never seen her so full of malice. It was a wave of different anger than normal. This was hatred.

The thought made Lizzie's stomach uneasy.

"Get the litter ready, you useless fools!" She hissed at the servants. "I won't sit here and watch as men stroke their egos."

Lizzie kept a passive face as the queen raged while servants now rushed to hurry the litter. Cersei finally stopped her ranting and pacing and took a deep breath. She looked over at her and frowning came over grabbing and squeezing her hands.

"Oh sweet little Elizabeth. You're so young and naive. Untouched by the cruelty of the world. There isn't a man who could ever deserve to have a woman as beautiful and good as you or my daughter, Myrcella."

Lizzie stared into Cersei's green eyes and wondered why Cersei was often so kind to her. It was said that she loved no one but her children. A sentiment that Lizzie would wholeheartedly agree with. Yet, Cersei often looked at her with a fondness and had never directed anger at her. Lizzie had a few theories as to why. The leading one was that, despite all their differences, Cersei saw her as a younger version of herself. And she wants to be the type of mother figure that she herself had never really had. Another theory was that Cersei's kindness was all part of a scheme, the elaborate game and she saw her as a threat for the very same reason. Perhaps Cersei saw so much of herself in Lizzie, she wanted to keep an eye on her.

Both of these theories made her nervous. If the first was true, it was another person who she had to answer to. The second because the Queen was not an enemy one should ever seek out. Regardless of why Cersei had such an interest in her, Lizzie knew it could all change in an instant if she wasn't careful.

Cersei reached up to brush a piece of her hair back. "Such goodness should be protected. Luckily for you, I'm making it my interest to help find you a decent husband. At the very least, one that won't humiliate you. What do you say to that, little dove?"

Lizzie understood the generosity of this offer and was somewhat astounded at it. Regardless, it was unnecessary as her father would never marry her to a man that she didn't consent to and she would never marry a brute or drunkard. She may not marry for love, but it wouldn't be a marriage of hate and fear. Lizzie bowed her head and gave a slight smile. "You are most kind, Your Grace but I haven't given much thought to marriage if I'm being honest. My father recently assured me after I was so upset when a betrothal was last brought up that I won't be marrying anytime soon. Princess Myrcella should be your priority."

Cersei narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips so tightly it looked like she had just sucked on something tart. She was a woman who did not like to be told no or have something she wanted to be taken from her. Lizzie wasn't blind. The queen didn't want to pick her husband because she wanted her to be happy and treated well. She wanted to pick her husband because then she had control and power over her. In the end, what Cersei wanted more than anything was power and control over her own fate, something always denied to her by her father. Lizzie having what she always craved would make Cersei jealous and resentful so she sought to take it from her. Fortunately, it was the truth and Cersei had no real authority over any potential future marriage. Her father was adamant that she married only when she wanted to and to a good man. Lizzie, however, didn't want Cersei to know that.

They were currently in a staredown. Cersei towering over her and Lizzie looking up at her with a slight smile and doing her best attempt at looking naive. Lizzie was not going to crack and finally, Cersei broke the silence with a forced upturn of her lips and a short, "Well, aren't you lucky to have such a loving father."

Lizzie decided to take the route of affirming Cersei and flattering her to dig herself out of this hole.

"I do count myself very lucky, Your Grace. To both have him as my father and to be one of your ladies. It's an honor and I'm undeserving of such love and affection." As she expected, this had the intended effect and Cersei softened. They stood there for a minute and in the distance, she heard the tournament. Every time, the crowd cheered she was desperate to know what had happened. She was trying to figure out a way to take her leave when a metaphorical knight in shining armor came to her rescue.

"Lizzie! There you are!"

Triston walked as handsome as ever clad in the silver and white colors of their house. Ser Barristan had been kind enough to give him the day off as a squire. He was hardly needed for guard duty during a tourney. He walked next to her and gave an exaggerated bow with a smirk on his lips to the Queen. "A thousand pardons, Your Grace, I grew worried when I didn't see my sister at the tournament as we had agreed to meet."

Cersei merely stared at them appraisingly, not even acknowledging Triston. Lizzie could see that she was still tense and upset and decided to intervene before her brother was on the receiving end of her fury.

"Apologies dear brother but our Queen has need of me and I must accompany her back to the Red Keep."

Cersei, to her shock, gave a practiced smile and shook her head, "No, Lady Elizabeth. I'll manage without you. Go and enjoy the tourney with your brother."

"Wonderful! Thank you, Your Grace. My sister has a keen eye for picking winners and I'd like to leave today with a heavier purse than the one I've come with." exclaimed Triston. She gave him a stare conveying the need for him to shut up.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Lizzie gave a deep curtsey. Perhaps she should bring Triston around more if Cersei was more inclined to giving her leave when he shows up.

"I know there is no stronger or closer bond in the world than the one shared between twins. Go and enjoy the day together. I would not separate you two." Cersei then turned and stepped into her litter with a flurry of skirts.

Triston nudged and smirked down at her. "You're welcome for rescuing you."

"You're an idiot." She shoved him back and he wrapped an arm through hers, laughing and pulling her through the lines of tents.

"You mean you wanted to be there when a bird landed on her head?" Lizzie couldn't help herself and laughed. "What is it with ladies making their hair look like bird's nests? Ridiculous and impractical if you ask me. I prefer women to wear their hair down like yours is."

She did as well and she'd taken the risk of Cersei disapproving by having it mostly down. Not that it mattered now.

"Well that's good to hear as there is no one's opinion I care for more than yours." she teased.

"As you should. Such an annoyance you have to play the Queen's good little lady."

"Stop that. You know I have a role to play. Besides, it's so sad. She has to face this humiliation from her husband day after day. It's every woman's worst nightmare other than being beaten or raped. It's a different type of violation but it's still damaging. Yet, she still sits there as proud and regal as ever."

"Yes, woe is the plight of you women as you frequently like to remind me. Enough of this depressing talk. We have a seat next to Renly with multiple flagons of wine ready for us to drink to our heart's content, far too much money to lose, and even more to win."

The day was full of revelries, cheers, and lots of wine.

It was a day of triumph for her family on the field with only one defeat. Her cousin, Ser Horas Redwyne, was unseated by Jory Cassel. Her other cousin, Loras had unhorsed two of the knights of the Kingsguard, Ser Danwell Frey, and Ser Robar Royce.

She would've invited Sansa and Arya to come up here with them but they were sitting close to the king and she knew that they would rather sit closer to the action. And she wanted to spend time with her brother and Renly and enjoy their company without worrying about taking care of the girls so she simply kept her glass full of wine and decided to leave them be. Hopefully, they wouldn't take offense.

Lizzie had done well placing her bets and had taken a nice chunk of gold from both Renly, her distant cousins Elinor and Megga Tyrell, and Lord Jason Mallister.

The day had ended and they were to have the semi-finals for the joust tomorrow. Loras would go against the Mountain while the Hound would ride against Ser Jaime Lannister. the winners of those would face each other and then the archery competition and the melee would commence later that afternoon.

"You'll be there tomorrow, dear cousin? I'll need you to 'light the way' to victory for me." Loras teased, using her house's words against her at the feast later that night. She was sitting with Renly, Loras, Triston, and Elinor; the only people she could stand and truly want to be around in King's Landing.

"Of course! As if I'd miss it, I have far too much coin placed on you beating the Mountain."

"Oh, I see how it is. Is that's all I am to you? A way for you to line your pockets?"

Lizzie laughed and waved over the cupbearers for more wine. Loras wasn't drinking as he claimed he needed to be sharp to unseat both the Mountain and Ser Jaime tomorrow.

"Of course not, Loras. Don't be so sensitive. And stop teasing me. It's not attractive or very noble of you."

"Me sensitive? Why I've never been so maligned!" He turned towards Renly and Triston who were just as deep into her cups as she was. "Do you agree with her? Am I a weak flower?"

"Oh the weakest, I'm afraid." Triston agreed, presenting a united front with her and causing everyone to laugh.

Renly chimed in, "If Elizabeth says it, then it must be true. Who could argue with her?"

"Me, when I was twelve and it was the last time I ever did it." Elinor quipped.

Everyone laughed at her subsequent smirk and eye roll and they spent many more hours enjoying the feast and each other's company. The worries of the world temporarily fading.

Her and Triston left soon after Renly and Loras when the moon was highest in the sky and began drunkenly stumbling down the halls of the Red Keep. Triston belting a bawdy tavern song from the Reach despite her attempts to shush him.

"I said, 'My young maid, do you stand in need  
Of the grain that's called the wanton seed, oh, the  
wanton seed,  
A grain that's called the wanton seed'"

Triston grabbed her hand and twirled her around making her laugh and the hallway spin.

"Triston, stop. You're going to make me sick."

He just laughed and threw his arm over her shoulder leaning his head onto the top of her head.

"Sing the rest for me, sister. I would hear the Pearl of Oldtown's sweet voice tonight."

She rolled her eyes but nonetheless opened her mouth to sing.

"Oh yes, kind ser, I stand in need,  
Of a grain that's called the wanton seed.  
If you are a man that can do the deed,  
Come and sow my meadow with the wanton seed, the  
wanton seed,  
Come and sow my meadow with the wanton seed."

She opened the door to her chambers and they stumbled in together laughing. "Mmmm Lizzie, let us sleep for a year." He flopped down onto her bed.

Lizzie didn't have the strength or will to tell him to get out. Forgetting all about her resolve to avoid being alone with him, she took off her slippers and changed into her smallclothes behind the changing screen. Returning to her bedside, she began trying to take off his boots.

"Be cooperative." she begged, "I don't want dirt in my bed." He groaned but finally sat up to take off his boots. She walked over to the side of the bed and slipped under the covers. Triston laid down next to her above the covers on his back.

She had her back to him looking out the small window in her chambers that were slightly open. Seeing all the lights from candles in this city she hated and feeling grateful she was leaving in a few days for Gerold's wedding. In truth, it was the smell, the lies, scheming, and the falsities that she hated. She was rather indifferent towards the people. She knew the people were only victims of their circumstances and did what they needed to in order to survive. Unlike most nobles, she made an effort to care as she knew what having the love of the people can do for a ruler. Neither Robert nor Cersei had it but she saw how her father lorded over Oldtown and her grandfather before him. Her family was beloved and with that love came a willingness to serve more devoutly than any type of fear could instill.

Feeling the wine still warm in her belly, her breathing slowed and she began to feel the pull of sleep.

"Lizzie."

"Hmmm?"

"Have you been avoiding me because you don't want me to ask if you fell in love with Robb Stark?"

Her eyes shot open and all feeling of relaxation left her body.

Damn him. She knew. She knew that'd he know. That he would figure it out and confront her. He'd planned it so well. Tearing her guard down her with drinks all day and making her laugh until her side hurt. She fully expected him to confront her but not so soon. How unaware it caught her was maddening.

Although she had hidden it well from everyone, she felt off-balance ever since returning to King's Landing and was unsure how to fix it. Expect Triston had noticed the difference in her, no matter how subtle it had been, even with the distance she'd placed between them. They were two halves of a whole. It was inevitable but she had hoped that she had more time to get some distance from her time in Winterfell and all the memories. She had hoped time would fade the hurt she felt. She hoped it would all fade. The memories, the hurt, the sting of disappointment, the flutters in her heart, the salacious dreams she'd been having where she moaned his name as he pressed her up against the wall in that hallway where he'd come so close to kissing her. She wanted the feeling of wanting him to hold her and protect her to disappear. She wanted to stop craving the freedom some of the northern ladies she'd met enjoyed that could have been hers. She wanted it to stop. She didn't want to be this girl.

Lizzie felt the tears well up in her eyes.

"Lizzie?"

She heard him turn on to his side to face her back. She couldn't ignore him but she couldn't say it out loud. Partly because it was too painful but also because it felt ridiculous. She didn't know what love was. What did it feel like? Was it supposed to scare you? Was it supposed to hurt? How could she even answer the question?

Taking a deep breath and blinking away the tears, she took a deep shaky breath trying to let the pain she felt escape out into the air.

"I don't know, Triston. All I know is I don't want to talk about it."

She heard him scoot closer behind her and felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey...it's me. We've never kept secrets before. Let's not start."

"It's not a secret!" She hissed turning onto her back to look at him. "I just don't want to talk about it."

He looked at her full of confusion. She knew he couldn't understand. He'd only ever been with one or two girls that she knew of and he'd never spoken of caring about them. Triston didn't think of love. He cared about fighting, hunting, and becoming a knight. He couldn't understand what it was like knowing your entire life revolved around who you would marry. A decision that truly wasn't even in your hands because even though her grandfather and father said it was her choice, they still had strict standards for any man who married into their family.

She stared up at the ceiling of her room and felt his arms encircle her waist and his body turn into hers until he was embracing her. She felt him press a soft kiss on her forehead before tucking her head under his chin.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie."

She welcomed the comfort he was readily giving to her. This was the brother that only she got to have. The only one who saw this tenderness and affection. This was her brother who always showed up when she truly needed him to. She turned in his arm so she was being fully enveloped by him and tucked her head into his chest and circled her arm underneath his shoulder.

"Don't be. It's stupid. I was stupid."

Triston shushed her and stroked her hair.

"No. No. No, sweet Lizzie. It's not stupid to fall in love. A bit foolish? Perhaps. But at least you got to experience it for a short while. That's more than most people ever get."

"But that's the thing. I don't know if I love him. Can you love someone you barely know? Someone you never had? Someone you will never have..."

Triston squeezed her tighter to him with each word that escapes her lips. As if he could hold her together with his very arms.

"I don't know," he whispered.

"Neither do I."

Silence lingered in the air. What else was there to be said?

The exhaustion of the day and the emotional tidal wave of the conversation finally caught up to her and her eyes slowly closed. She felt Triston's chest rising and falling beneath her cheek.

Only for the pull of sleep to be interrupted once again when Triston's voice broke the silence.

"I won't bring it up again," he promised.

She exhaled a deep breath.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combine elements from the book and the show but I also take liberties and adjust the timeline by a few months. There's a purpose to it all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Sorry this has taken so long. We’re in the middle of a pandemic. Hope you all are staying healthy and safe!  
> I genuinely welcome reviews. Like they bring me joy. Spread joy.

The crowd’s cheers made Lizzie wince as she climbed up onto the pavilion. While not anything like it had been when she first woke up this morning, her headache was still an annoyance she could do without. She would have continued sleeping, but as it was, Loras was going up against Ser Gregor Clegane. She not only promised that she’d be there, but she needed to collect her winnings.

“A bit too deep in the cups last night, Lady Elizabeth?” Renly asks her as she sits down next to him. She missed the first joust between Jaime Lannister and the Hound. A pity because she’d heard the Kingslayer’s helmet had been dented in, and he’d run around the list fumbling with it blindly, unable to get it off. The pompous prick deserved it, and she would’ve liked to get a laugh out of it with the Queen not being here.

She gives him a soft smile. “Unfortunately, yes. Hopefully, Loras will make quick work of this.”

“I hope so as well. Cupbearer, bring water for Lady Elizabeth.” A glass of water was promptly handed to her, and she downs it rather quickly. It was a warm day, and she always found herself having a never-ending thirst the day after drinking. 

Renly peered around and then turned to her. “Where’s your brother? Not trying to avoid losing all his money to me, is he?"

“You wish, Renly.” Her brother appeared and took a seat next to her. He had stopped to talk to some fellow squires and knights from the Reach who were preparing for the melee after arriving with her on their horses. She had given Ser Egan some tasks to complete to prepare for their journey, one of which was going to the Street of Steel to acquire Addam’s helm that she had ordered commissioned and her dagger. 

They spent the next couple of minutes idly chatting before hearing the crowd erupted into cheers, and the thundering hooves of the Mountain’s horse ride down the lists.  
He stopped in front of the King and revealed his brutish face with dark eyes that made Lizzie’s skin crawl. The Mountain rarely came to court. He only left his Keep in the Westerland mountains for tournaments and to do Tywin Lannister’s bidding. The man was altogether terrifying, and everything a knight should not be. Every time she stepped foot in the royal chambers where Elia Martell and her children were butchered by the monster in front of her, her disgust and fear of the man increased.

Loras emerged from the opposite side of the lists and made his horse slowly walk the length of the pavilion. He had a red rose in his hand and stopped in front of Sansa Stark, who Lizzie just realized was next to her father, while Arya was absent. Loras reached out giving her his favor and bowed his head. Lizzie could only imagine the smile gracing Sansa’s face right now with Loras fulfilling her dreams of gallant knights.

Loras peered up at Renly and gave him a smirk and then turned to Lizzie and winked. He rode in front of Robert and did his flamboyant bow as he turned his white mare to stand next to the Mountain’s black steed. Immediately, the Mountain was fighting his horse to gain control of him as he began acting agitated. The Mountain turned his horse to canter down to the opposite end of the lists as Loras smirked.

Of course, his mare was in heat—the tricky little bastard.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the slimy voice of Littlefinger. 

“100 gold dragons on the Mountain!” He peered over his shoulder with that infuriating mocking glint in his eye and a smirk under his mustache. His eyes flickered to hers for just a brief second, and she stared coldly back at him. 

Renly responded, “I'll take that bet.”

“Now, what will I buy with 100 gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish wine? Or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

She narrowed her eyes at him at the apparent jibe at Renly.

Renly quipped back. “You could even buy a friend.”

She and everyone else laughed at that. Gods, she hated Littlefinger. He had tried to employ her when she came to the Capital as a spy to the Queen. He hadn’t liked her response, and things had been colder than the land beyond the wall between them ever since. He vehemently disliked her and, by extension, her entire family. Something she was worried about but also made her feel better. To have Littlefinger as an enemy could prove troublesome, but to be associated with the likes of him was a stain on a reputation that most people should avoid, in her opinion.

The horn sounded, and at its end, they began their charge.

It took only seconds for them to meet in the middle where Loras struck the Mountain dead on, and he fell to the ground taking his horse with him in a tangle of flesh and steel.  
Lizzie jumped to her feet, yelling, “For the Reach!! Loras!”

Around her, the crowd erupted into applause, cheers, shocked gasps, whistles, and above it all, the Hound’s uproarious laughter. Loras reined his pretty white mare in at the end of the list. His lance perfectly intact, and the sapphires of his helmet gleaming in the sun while the Mountain tangled with his horse on the ground.   
Renly broke from his laughter and turned to Littlefinger mockingly.

“Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would’ve been so nice for you to have a friend.” 

Littlefinger responded in a much louder voice, “And tell me, Lord Renly, when will you be having your friend.”

Renly’s face dropped, and his demeanor soured. Lizzie felt awful for Renly at that moment and wanted so desperately to defend him but was unable to without placing herself in the line of fire and bringing more unnecessary attention to an already embarrassing moment. She did narrow her eyes as she saw Littlefinger lean forward, putting his hand on Sansa’s shoulder and whisper something into her ear. 

Soon she would need to warn Sansa that Baelish was not to be trusted, but for now, she continued clapping with a smile as he trotted his horse in front of the King. 

She didn’t even notice the Mountain until his horse screamed as it died with his neck nearly severed in half, and the crowd shrieked. Ser Gregor turned and advanced on Loras with his blood-soaked sword with murder in his eyes. Lizzie screamed as his sword came swinging down, knocking Loras off of his mare.

She heard Ned Stark yelling for someone to stop him, but no one was close enough. Triston began moving away from her and through people trying to get to the field to help their cousin, but she knew he wouldn’t be quick enough. 

Lizzie’s hands shot up to cover her mouth as Ser Gregor lifted his sword and waited for the killing blow to be delivered, prepared to watch her beloved cousin be slaughtered in front of her, as the King and everyone else in his court just sat and watched, only for a rasping voice to shout, “Leave him be.” as the owner of said voice wrenched Loras away from the Mountain with his steel-clad hand.

It was the Hound! The Mountain’s younger brother. She had never much cared for the man, but at this moment, she adored him. The Hound and his vile brother began trading blows just as Triston reached Loras, pulling him to his feet and away from the danger. Lizzie, her heart still racing and terrified, breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing twenty different gold clocks and Kingsguard arrive onto the lists.

And then finally, the King’s voice boomed through the air.

“STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!”

Ser Gregor still let his sword slice through the air only to be met with air as the Hound went to his knee at the King’s demand. He looked around at the dozens of swords ready to be drawn and cut him down and glared at them all before throwing his sword to the ground and stomping off.

Lizzie breathed a small sigh of relief with her heart still pounding. She jumped up from her seat and jetted off for the Highgarden tent, where she knew Loras would have been taken. 

Her mind raced as she picked up her skirts and broke into a half-run, fearing that the Mountain had caved in Loras’ arm the way he’d done to poor baby Aegon Targareyn’s head. How could such barbarism be allowed to happen? The Mountain didn’t belong anywhere in civilized company, and he certainly didn’t deserve his title as a knight. She held no illusions on the gallant and honorable nature of knights. True knights were rare, but most men who had the title pretend to be decent in public. And for the King to just sit there!  
She arrived at the Tyrell tent with its large canopied opening made of green silk and cotton to see Loras, seemingly unharmed, standing beside a table covered in food and cups of wine with Triston next to him, taking his armor off. 

She rushed over to him and threw her arms around him. 

“Oh there, there, sweet Lizzie.” Loras soothed her. She stepped back to take a look at him but still stood within his arms with her arms around his neck.

“Are you hurt? If he hurt you, I swear, I’ll-”

“You’ll what, Lizzie? Stop with your dramatics. Hysterics are not very attractive.” Triston said to her as he stood next to them

“I’ll put Tears of Lys in his wine.” she offered with complete sincerity in her voice. She currently had four bottles in her chambers, one of which she had made herself. Not that anyone knew about that.

Triston rolled his eyes and shared a chuckle with Loras at her seemingly empty threat. Loras grabbed her hands and brought them to his lips to kiss them. 

“‘How honored I am to see the fire that lights the High Tower blaze so fiercely for me. But I’m alright, Elizabeth. Truly. It’s just a bruise.” She stared at him for a long moment, and seeing the sincerity in his eyes and feeling assured that he wasn’t lying and pretending to be unharmed, she nodded and stepped out of his embrace.

They took off the rest of his armor until he was in his simple linen doublet, and she poured and handed him some water.

“I have to go give the win to the Hound. Honor demands it. He saved my life.” Loras said.

Lizzie nodded and watched him leave the tent. She grabbed the cup of that Triston was holding in his hand and took the last few gulps. 

“Easy there, Lizzie.” Triston reached for his cup back only to pout and give her a side-eye when he saw it empty.

“Don’t look at me like that. You have no right to judge.” She put her hand on the table next to her and leaned against it. Her shoulders slumped, and fatigue settling in as the adrenaline left her bloodstream.

Loras had a special place in her heart, and to see him attacked and nearly killed shook her to her core. Even more so because the King just sat there until the last minute before intervening! She suddenly found herself agreeing with every venomous statement that Cersei had ever muttered about the man. 

He was an oaf and a drunken fool. Nothing but a war-mongering whore. Bastard. Useless.

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for today!” Triston exclaimed, clapping his hands and rubbing them together with a grin on his face, effectively breaking her out of her silent internal tirade. “Shall we head back to the Red Keep and finish readying ourselves for the journey home, or do we want to stick around and watch some men try to shoot a circle on boards with pointy sticks?” 

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh. “No, darling brother. Let’s head back to the Keep. I’ll just go say my goodbyes and meet you back at the horses?”

Triston nodded and waved her off as he set about telling the servants to take Loras’s things back to his quarters. Lizzie left the tent, squinting her eyes at the glaring sun, and looked around at the myriad of tents as she passed through them on her way to the pavilion.

They were all filled with men searching for… she didn’t know what. They probably didn’t even know what they wanted out of risking their lives for entertainment. Gold, maybe? But what did they want to spend the gold on? Fame? Such a thing comes and goes. Honor? Few men cared about that, and she just happened to be walking up to one of the only ones that did as he sat next to his daughter, who looked frantic with worry as she clutched the rose Loras had given her.

“Oh, Lizzie. How is Ser Loras? He’s not hurt, is he?” Sansa asked, her eyes wide, and her voice full of despair.

Lizzie smiled and sat down next to her taking her hand into hers. “No, my dear, he’s quite alright. It’d take much more than one blow from a mad dog to cut down the Knight of the Flowers.”

Her voice carried, and several people laughed and breathed a sigh of relief at knowing the crowd favorite was unharmed. At that moment, Loras decided to come out. He walked up to Sandor Clegane and said, “I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser.”

“I am no ser,” the Hound replied, but he accepted the victory, the champion’s purse, and, for the first time, the love of the common people.

Lizzie clapped along with everyone else. Sansa sat next to her wholly bestowed, and Lord Stark looked at Loras with begrudging respect with the lingering annoyance at the theatrical nature of tournaments. 

Of course, King Robb just lifted his wine cup in acknowledgment before standing up and walking off to what Lizzie assumed was the archery field, with Ser Barristan following.  
The applause died down, and as the crowd dispersed, they all made to leave, and as they stepped down the pavilion to walk to the archery field, Renly came to stand next to her.

“Will you be leaving now? Or will you stick around to rob me of the money I just won from Lord Baelish?” He asked.

Her reply was cut off by Sansa, “ Leave? You can’t leave, Lady Elizabeth. There’s still the archery and the melee, and you still haven’t introduced me to your brother. Please don’t go.” Lizzie laughed and looped her arm through Sansa’s.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I’m afraid I have much to do before I leave for Oldtown tomorrow. But we aren’t leaving until later in the morning, so perhaps, Triston and I can call on you early tomorrow, and the introduction can be made then. Would that be alright?”

She looked at Sansa, who nodded vigorously and brightened up considerably, and then Lord Stark questioningly to which he nodded his consent. Lizzie beamed down at Sansa only for her smile to become forced when Littlefinger’s voice crept up next to her.

“Yes, I had heard that you had discovered a fondness for Northerners, Lady Hightower. I’m curious how you, a lady from one of the most southern parts of Westeros, managed to stay warm all the way north in Winterfell.”

Lizzie found herself wishing she had learned how to punch so she could wipe that grin off his face. Lizzie knew where this was heading and was trying to navigate her way out of this.

“It must be my Valyrian ancestry that makes my blood run hot,” she quipped.

“Perhaps…” he pondered out loud. Lizzie hoped that was the end of it, but then Sansa decided to interject.

“Lady Elizabeth was extremely well taken care of at Winterfell, Lord Baelish. It wasn’t too cold, although my brother, Robb, did let her borrow an old clock of his, and it helped keep her warm.”

Lord Baelish’s eyebrows rose high on his head, and his smile grew so large it threatened to split his face, “Oh really? How wonderful to hear. A shame you can’t return that same kindness here in the South, Lady Hightower.”

Lizzie managed to keep a calm demeanor and a small smile on her lips, although her mind was churning. She knew Littlefinger had been playing at something when he brought up Winterfell. He was fishing for information, and it seems that he got it. Sansa was far too trusting. She knew she’d have to maneuver this carefully, but at the same time, part of her wanted to be bold and unsettle Littlefinger. 

And nothing unsettles a liar like the truth.

Staring Littlefinger down, she caught him off his guard by saying in a bright tone, “On the contrary, the hospitality I was given at Winterfell only makes me all the more devoted to making sure the Starks are safe and happy here in the South. Hardly a shame for the Stark’s to have a loyal and honest friend here. There are very few people capable of such virtues left in the world.”

Littlefinger’s eyes narrowed at her, “Yes, how fortunate they are to have such a virtuous and kind lady at their side.” 

“It’s too bad you’re not so fortunate, Lord Baelish.” She cocked her head to the side and gave a mocking smile. “In the company you keep or in betting on jousts, as we all just found out.” 

Everyone got a laugh at that, especially Renly, who she knew was thankful to her for helping to put Baelish in his place after the very public teasing about his and Loras’ relationship. She also saw and felt Lord Stark’s eyes on her again in that same appraising way that was beginning to irritate her. She couldn’t figure out what it was about.   
Rationally, she knew that wasn’t a good idea. Antagonizing Baelish was risky. Publicly allying with the Starks even more so and her father wouldn’t like her allying so publicly with Lord Stark, but she found herself not caring. And Cersei wouldn’t suspect her of doing anything but being kind.

It was worth the risk in her mind. Especially because she had made a promise to a boy with pleading blue eyes who was beside himself with worry over his sisters, and she intended to keep it.

With her arm still looped through Sansa’s as they approached the archery field, she disentangled herself and them all goodbye, leaving to wait for her brother to come to meet her at the horses so he could escort her back as they had previously arranged. 

Lizzie walked over to Syrax, where he was tied up on a long fence post with numerous other horses, and began putting on her riding gloves when she heard the sound.  
“Psssssst.”

She turned her head around, trying to identify the noise.

“Pssssssst, Lady Hightower.”

She pivoted her head around until she finally identified the noise. It was a boy, hiding in the shadows next to the tent for a small house from the Westerlands. The boy was dirty and ragged, but he appeared to be well-fed and appropriately clothed.

She looked around to see if anyone was nearby and then walked over to him.

“Yes? What is it?”

The boy reached out and held up a silver pin. It was circular with the shape of the High Tower cut into the middle. She grabbed it and looked down at him, trying to look kind but still intimidating.

“Oh my, I lost this some time ago. Where did you find it?” She questioned.

“On the street of steel, m’lady. When the Lord Hand was visiting the blacksmith Tobho Mott and asking questions. That’s it, I didn’t steal, or nothing, and Septa Moelle told me to give it to ya and tell ya all of that.” 

She bent down and smiled sweetly at him. “Of course you didn’t steal it. But it’s probably best nobody else knows that you found it because they might not believe you. Do you understand?” He nodded. “Good lad. Now run along and tell Septa Moelle, thank you for me.”

The boy turned and quickly left. She turned and walked back to Syrax and placed the pin deep into a satchel as Triston walked up to her. She was lost in her thoughts and didn’t respond to his greeting.

“Well, that was an interesting tournament. Too bad you’re forcing me to leave early.” He untied his horse, Thunder, from the post and mounted him.

He peered down at her. “You look worried. What is it?”

She squinted up at him, just barely seeing him as the sun was behind his head and giving him a halo of sort through his white hair. 

Lizzie sighed. “Stark went to Tobho Mott, which means he’s found one of Robert’s bastards. I told you he’d care and try to figure it out.”

Triston’s face screwed up, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine. He isn’t helpless, but he’s still a northern fool and nothing for us to worry about right now.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Especially since we have so much to do, and we’ll be stopping to see Sansa in the morning so I can introduce you two.” Lizzie grinned up at him as he frowned and shook his head.

“Absolutely not. I’m getting one last training session with Ser Barristan before I leave.” 

“You will go, and you will act like the perfect charming southern knight.” Lizzie stared hard and cocked her eyebrow, challenging him to disagree with her.

“You know you look like Cersei when you make that face?” Triston jibbed her exactly where he knew it would hurt. She rolled her eyes before turning away to mount her horse.  
“Please do this small thing for me. It’s important to me.” 

For a moment, she thought he’d deny her again, but instead, he gave a sigh and shot an infuriating smirk her way. “Oh Lizzie, wipe those frown lines off of your pretty little face, I’ll go to make you happy.” She instantly perked up and beamed at him to which he shook his head. “But let’s not dally any longer. We have errands to run, and I’d like to make it to the feast tonight on time. I’ll race you back to the city gate.” 

“Ha! As if you could beat my girl. But let’s make it interesting, the winner gets a favor.”

“Deal.”

And then he took off on a canter, weaving through the people who yelled at him.

“You cheat!” she yelled after him quickly following.

She still beat him.


End file.
